Do you mind
by Deathangel125
Summary: An unexpected visit prompts a simple question


I answer the knock on my door, surprised to see the man standing there, looking at me with exhausted emerald eyes. It might be a shock to see him again so soon, but I stand aside and let him in. "Do you mind if I stay?"

I should mind; I should tell him that he has to stop doing this to me. I should tell him I can't stand seeing him walk away all the time. What I do tell him is, "You're always welcome here."

He doesn't offer an explanation about what's put that pained look in his eyes and I know better than to ask as he moves toward the guest room with shuffling steps that speaks of injury. Shaking my head at my own stupidity, I get the first-aid kit and corner him in the guest room that's always kept ready, just in case he comes, "Let me fix you up."

"It isn't that bad," he says, but he's already pulling his shirt off, letting me see the long gash that circles from his chest to his back.

"It's bad enough to have you walking stiffly," I lead him to the bed, directing him to lie on his side with none-too-gentle pushes on his shoulder. "It needs stitches."

"Do you mind…?" he doesn't finish the inquiry as he sees me pulling needle and surgical thread from the kit.

His eyes are on me as I sew up his rent skin, making sure I don't touch him more than necessary. It's too easy for me to remember that one time, too many years ago; when I offered something he didn't want from me. I still want him, but I'll be damned if I'll ever tell him. If I don't tell him, he'll never know how much it hurts to see him again, aware that he'll leave to return to…whatever his life is now.

I won't ask him where he's been, what he's been doing, or who he's seen; I know he won't answer me. This occasional visit when he needs to heal physically and mentally will be short before he vanishes again, going back into the world to do…whatever.

My silence must seem strange because he's the first one to speak, "How have you been?"

"Fine, the same as always."

"Have you been with Heero lately? I know you've continued working with the Preventers."

My eyes stay locked on the wound, caused by a knife if my guess is right, and nod just a little, "I don't work with them. If Heero needs me, he calls."

"And you always go, without hesitation."

There's a note of anger there, making me glance at his face. Why does he seem mad? "If Heero needs me, I go. It's what friends do," I answer quietly, giving my attention back to his stitches and hissing when he jerks. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, you didn't hurt me. Friends? You and Heero aren't…?"

A smile tugs my lips as I think of Heero, memories both good and bad. "We're friends. It's all we've ever been. All we'll ever be."

"You aren't upset about that?"

"I've never wanted Heero." I've always wanted you.

Finishing up the stitches, I squeeze some antibiotic ointment on my fingers and spread it along the cut to speed up the healing process. After putting a long piece of gauze over the wound, I gather the things I used along with the kit, standing and looking down at him and ignoring the ache I feel every time he shows up. "Get some sleep; you look exhausted."

"You aren't going to ask me anything?"

Smiling sadly at the confusion in his eyes, I shake my head and back toward the door, "I stopped asking a long time ago. You made it clear you that you didn't want to tell me anything. I'll wake you when it's time to eat dinner."

After disinfecting the needle, I replace everything in the first aid kit, ready for the next time he shows up, injured and tired. I won't ask, but I want to know where he's been, what he does to get hurt so often. I want to know why he's back less than a month after he left the last time. I want to know how long he'll stay this time.

When dinner is ready, a healthy mix of vegetables, rice, and pork, I go to wake him, taking the opportunity to watch him sleep. It only takes a minute for him to wake on his own, eyes opening even as his hand moves for a weapon that isn't there, likely roused by the sensation of being watched. The unconscious movement tells of too much time spent in a battle-ready state. "You're safe here."

His hand relaxes at the sound of my voice, eyes moving to me and staying there for a breath before he sighs, "I've always been safe here."

That's why I won't ask questions or tell him how I feel; he needs the safety my home provides. He needs a safe haven where he can rest and relax. "Dinner's ready."

He studies me while we eat and again while we watch television. "You talk less than you used to; you used to have more questions."

"There's no reason to ask questions if you don't get any answers."

Bedtime comes early for me; I've been up since four this morning, pulled out of sleep by nightmares. My eyes are already closed when I feel the weight of his stare and open them to find him standing beside the bed. "Do you mind if I sleep here?"

I should tell him to go back to the guest room, but I pull the blankets back and scoot over so he can slide in beside me. It's a shock when he wraps around me and tugs me close, "Do you mind…asking me again?"

I'm confused, but I ask my questions again. I ask where he's been, what he's been doing for the last three years. He tells me of the work he's been doing in places still torn apart by their own wars and unrest. He tells me of the fights he's been in and the misery he's seen and tried to ease. In the darkness of my room with his arms around me as if to prevent me from running from the horror he describes, he tells me almost everything I've ever wanted to know.

It's more than I expected, more than he's given me before and I'm content, but he doesn't stop there, asking me a question of his own, "After…that time…when we slept together… you never said anything about it, not even when I came back. Why didn't you ask?"

"When I woke the next morning, you were gone. It seemed to be enough of an answer. You didn't want what I was willing to give you."

"I wanted what you offered. I wanted you, but I didn't know how to accept. I hoped you would say something the next time I came, but you didn't."

"Why didn't you say something to me?"

"I didn't know how. There's been so much bad in my life, I didn't know how to accept anything good. Once I realized that, I knew I wouldn't be ready for what you wanted until after I told you everything. When you stopped asking, I assumed you'd given up on me and you didn't want me anymore."

"I've never given up on you, but I wasn't willing to have you walk out on me every time I asked something. It was better to have you here and not know than to know and run the risk of never seeing you again."

"I've been waiting for you to ask me so I could tell you everything. I've been waiting for three long years to tell you all of this."

Brushing my fingers over his side and the gauze taped there, I lean into him a bit more. "What does this mean?"

His lips are close to mine, yet not touching, "Duo, do you mind if I stay?"

"For how long?"

"Forever?"

"I don't mind at all."

The End


End file.
